


The Mind of the Pack

by TheRealDanniX



Series: Adventures in Mind Reading [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Eskel's POV, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Vesemir, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Witcher Wolf Pack, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), after the last one, but they deserve it, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24042916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealDanniX/pseuds/TheRealDanniX
Summary: When our found family meets the other Wolves of Kaer Morhen, fluff ensues and leaves confused witchers in its wake.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Adventures in Mind Reading [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702603
Comments: 69
Kudos: 636





	1. A Cold Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so overwhelmed by the wonderful responses to this series. It's incredible. 
> 
> So, what we have here is a metric ton of fluffy Geralt and Jask and found family growing to have the weird uncles and the grumpy sweetheart Grandpa. 
> 
> Fair warning, Lambert's a dick, but that's cannon so it's not like that surprising. And I'm bad at writing assholes so he's probably no as much of a dick as I want him to be. 
> 
> Leave a kudos or a comment to let me know what you think so far.

Winter came early and had led most of the Witchers of Kaer Morhen back to the keep before their brother arrived. They weren’t expecting the White Wolf this year, nor the three guests that came with him. Despite Eskel’s and Lambert’s protests, the three non-witchers were allowed to stay. The one that made Eskel most uncomfortable was the bard. He smelled of something not quite human. A quick glance at Lambert and Vesemir revealed they could smell it too, but, when Lambert made to stop the bard, Geralt had barred his teeth. “Stop that,” the bard sighed. “Really, Geralt, I can handle a little distrust.” He flashed a smile at the other Witchers, and walked past, following the tugging of the child into the keep.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, pup,” Vesemir growled quietly.

“Ciri is my responsibility. I had no choice but to bring her here,” Geralt sighed.

“And the others?” Lambert hissed, gesturing towards the sorceress with violet eyes that scanned the youngest witcher.

“I trust Yennefer and Jaskier.” The White Wolf looked at the bard, who had reappeared in the door to the keep.

“I promise, we’ll help where we can,” Jaskier said. “Besides that, Ciri needs someone to help her train in magic, which Yennefer has been so graciously doing. I may not be much in the way of usefulness, but I have traveled with Geralt for the past several decades, so I’d say I’m a bit invested. I know we’re not witchers, but we won’t betray you.” He made a point of meeting Geralt’s eyes. Something unspoken passed between them and Jaskier’s face lit up. “Oh, Geralt,” he sighed. “Come help me get Ciri settled.” Geralt and Jaskier disappeared into the keep.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Yennefer said coldly before following them. The three witchers stood just outside the door, not wanting to go in. As usual, Lambert was the first to break the silence.

“I’m glad the bastard’s not dead and everything, but what the fuck was that?” Lambert said. He folded his arms across his chest. Eskel shrugged.

“He’s talked about the bard before,” Eskel said. “And the child surprise. And the mage. He trusts them. That means we can too.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to like them,” Lambert grumbled. Eskel smirked.

“Hush,” Vesemir snapped. “Every Witcher has the right to stay in the safety of Kaer Morhen. That safety extends to their guests as well. You will treat them respectfully.” The old Wolf fixed the other two with a glare. Eskel decided that respect meant avoiding them, while Lambert tried to keep his mouth shut around the outsiders.

Geralt and his guests had settled into life at Kaer Morhen easily. In the mornings, Geralt would train with his brothers and Ciri. Jaskier and Yennefer spent that time in the Library. In the afternoons, Jaskier and Geralt would take care of their tasks, helping in the maintenance of the keep. Yennefer and Ciri would work on magic in the courtyard. The evenings would often find Geralt and his brothers lounging and yelling, like every winter, while the bard was off somewhere. Yennefer and Ciri seemed to enjoy themselves watching the wolves snap and pick at each other, but, when Jaskier would reappear, they glued themselves to his sides. On one such night, two weeks after their arrival, Jaskier had settled on a fur in front of the large fireplace in the front room of the keep. Ciri was sitting in his lap, having her hair braided, while Yennefer sat with her back against his. None of them spoke, but there was a gentle tune being hummed by the bard as careful fingers moved through golden hair. In a lull of conversation among the Witchers, Lambert’s attention drifted to the bard, like it had several hundred times over the past two weeks. Enough was enough.

“Hey bard,” Lambert called. Jaskier’s fingers stilled and he looked over at the youngest witcher, smiling.

“What can I do for you?” he said sweetly.

“I have a question for you.” Lambert leaned back in his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Geralt watching him carefully. “What are you?” Geralt growled.

“Lambert!” Eskel snapped.

Jaskier just let out a little chuckle. “Ah, well,” he started. Then he paused looking oddly at Geralt. “I know that love,” he sighed after a moment. “To answer your question, young wolf, I’m half siren. My mother was a full siren. And before you ask, yes, I can Sing like a siren. I don’t though. No reason to when my real voice sounds as good as it does.” He smiled again. Yennefer was glaring at Lambert in warning, but he wasn’t really paying attention.

“What color are your scales?” Lambert asked darkly. He tilted his head a bit. Geralt growled again. Yennefer twisted so that she could take hold of the bard’s arm. Before Jaskier could answer, though, the little princess jumped out of his lap.

“You don’t get to ask that!” Ciri snapped. “You ignored him for weeks then ask him _that!_ How would you like it if he asked you what exactly your stupid mutations were?” Jaskier quickly wrapped the girl in his arms.

“It’s all right, little cub. I don’t mind.” Jaskier kept his voice quiet as he pulled her closer to him.

“She’s right,” Vesemir huffed. “Leave it, Lambert.” Jaskier passed Ciri to Yennefer, who promptly pulled her back and looked pointedly at Geralt. A conversation seemed to occur in the space around them, but Eskel and Lambert couldn’t hear it.

“I could show you if you’d like. I really don’t mind. After all, you lot hunt monsters and I’m, well, I’m part monster. I understand the curiosity.” He smiled again. The bard always seemed to be smiling about something. He was looking at Vesemir. Waiting for permission, Eskel realized. The old wolf nodded slightly. Then Jaskier took his shirt off and shifted. Two scaled wings stretched from his back and thin gills formed on his neck. Blueish scales covered his arms and torso shimmering like ice in the sunlight. His eyes glowed a brighter blue than before, with slits for pupils. It wasn’t a full shift since he was still standing on two legs, but it was stunning. He was still smiling at them, but his teeth were too white and too sharp. He stood like that a moment, before shifting back. His eyes found Geralt as he pulled his chemise back on. “I hope that satisfied you. I’m afraid if you’d like to see the full form, you’ll have to wait until the rivers aren’t freezing cold.” He smiled again, and a small blush crept over his cheeks. Geralt got up from where he had been sitting and pulled the bard after him as he headed upstairs.

Yennefer rolled her eyes, at them, but fixed another glare on Lambert. “Don’t do that again,” she growled. “Come on Ciri. It’s late.” The sorceress guided the still irritated princess after the White Wolf and his bard. After they had gone, Vesemir cuffed Lambert on the back of his head.

“That is not what I meant when I said respect,” the old wolf growled.

“I got it. I was just curious. Fuck.” Lambert rolled his eyes. Vesemir cuffed him again, before heading for his own room.

“That was odd, right?” Eskel said once he was sure no one else was lurking close enough to hear.

“The siren thing? Honestly, could have called that. He is a bard,” Lambert snorted.

“No, the way he kept looking at Geralt while he was talking.”

“He’s Geralt’s _bard_.” Lambert wiggled his eyebrows. “He was probably thinking of what song he’s gonna sing in the bastard’s bed tonight.”

“Shut up.” Eskel kicked Lambert’s chair. “I meant it was like he was listening to something, but Geralt wasn’t saying anything. I’ve seen mages look like that when they’re reading peoples’ minds.”

“You’re losing it Esk,” the young witcher sighed. “Sirens can’t read minds and I’m fairly certain that’s the only type of magic he’s got. But, hey, you’re the one with the fancy signs. You should be able to tell if he’s reading your mind.”

“My mind, probably, not Geralt’s,” Eskel snorted.

“If you’re gonna ask him questions, I’d say work your way up to it. I didn’t seem to do too well.”

“That’s because you are a certified dick.”

“Like you’re any better.”


	2. A disturbance in the Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I promise it'll be better end of this week, once school is over.

Eskel decided that he was going to watch Jaskier all day and see what happened. It would be easy. At least, he thought it would. He skipped training and followed bard and sorceress to the library. They moved around each other like they knew where the other would be and what they were doing. Eskel watched for hours, and the most surprising thing was how quiet the bard was. Yennefer wasn’t very talkative, but Jaskier seemed to be talking or singing whenever he got the chance. Yet, as they worked in the library, neither said a word. The bard would only let out a little hum or slight laugh every so often, but even that was quieter than Eskel had ever seen the bard. When Jaskier caught him outside the library as they emerged, he flashed a bright smile and invited the Witcher to help him get lunch ready. From the moment Jaskier saw him until the meal was ready, Jaskier was talking. It was nearly impossible to keep track of what exactly the bard was saying, but the words never seemed to stop. This display made the quiet of the library that much more confusing.

Following Jaskier after lunch was harder, since it meant he was also following Geralt. He couldn’t just stay out of earshot, because Geralt could hear, and smell, farther than Eskel. Instead, he offered to help them with their tasks. It was another surprise when Jaskier grinned at him and accepted. Geralt had just rolled his eyes. That day they were taking care of the horses and mucking out the stables. Eskel’s horse, Scorpion, was his main concern, though he helped Geralt and Jaskier with Crow, Pegasus, and Roach. It was clear that Geralt knew Eskel was looking for something. He glared over his mare at his brother. But Jaskier either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he started rambling again while rubbing down Pegasus.

This time, Eskel tried to pay attention to what the damn bard was saying, but he seemed to change topic on a whim, answering questions that weren’t asked, chuckling at something in his own head, interrupting himself. It should have been annoying, but, if Eskel was being honest, it just confused him. It was like the bard was having a conversation with himself, providing the responses before he ever made a statement. The most confusing part was the way that Geralt seemed to be following it perfectly. The White Wolf would huff a laugh in the right places, level a glare, or grunt and hum at the bard. It was driving Eskel crazy.

After dinner, Jaskier went off on his own, and Eskel followed. Surely, he would see what spell the bard was weaving now. Of course, he didn’t. All he saw was the bard sitting alone with papers strewn all around as he plucked on his lute and scratched outlines and notes on the papers. He was clearly composing. After three days of following Jaskier through this pattern, Eskel was even more confused. He was also certain there was _something_ that Jaskier hadn’t told them. So, when he followed the bard to his composing on the third day, Eskel made himself know. Jaskier just smiled at him. “What can I do for you, my darling Eskel?” Eskel was stunned for a second at the endearment. Maybe the man was just crazy if he was calling a witcher darling. Then again, he traveled with Geralt so a little crazy was to be expected.

“I have a question, bard,” Eskel said finally.

“Then ask, my friend. I will keep no secrets from you, nor anyone else here.” Jaskier’s grin was distracting.

“I’ve noticed that you act oddly.”

Jaskier tilted his head curiously. “What do you find odd?”

“You talk all the time, except in the library with Yennefer. Then you say nothing. And sometimes, when you speak with Geralt, it seems like you are having parts of the conversation in your head. You answer questions that aren’t asked, and you laugh at jokes that aren’t spoken.” Eskel let out an exasperated sigh. “Yet I know you aren’t magic. I do not understand.”

Jaskier let out a little laugh. He patted the ground in front of him. “Take a seat. I won’t bite.” He waited until the Witcher was settled in front of him before continuing. “Has this been bugging you the whole time?” Eskel nodded. Jaskier shook his head. “I’m truly sorry, about that Eskel. Geralt asked me not to tell his brothers about my little curse, but since it’s causing you such distress, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Eskel frowned. “Your cursed?”

Jaskier nodded, still smiling. Most people suffering under a curse don’t smile. “Yes, quite definitely. Yennefer thinks it’s a rather permanent fixture unless someone fixes it. Of course, none of us are trying to fix it.” Jaskier chuckled a bit, smirking to himself.

“I’m still not following. You have a curse, but you’re not trying to fix it?”

“Well, no. The second Geralt, Yen, or Ciri asks I will, but until then, I don’t really want it gone. You see, about three years ago, I was cursed to hear the thoughts of my beloved. The mage who did it was a bit angry about my dalliance with his fiancé earlier that evening. So, he cursed me. And, while he clearly meant for it to be exclusively romantic, it’s not so limited in practice. After all, I certainly don’t feel the same way about Ciri as I do Geralt, but I can hear their thoughts just the same.” The bard shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me, and, honestly, it’s been rather useful.”

“You can hear their thoughts.” Eskel felt his eyes get wide. “And they don’t mind. And it can be like that for anyone you love.”

Jaskier nodded. “Exactly. I don’t talk when I’m in the library with Yennefer because I don’t need to since she can read my thoughts when she wants to. Plus, this way, I don’t have to worry about bothering her because she can just choose not to listen. When Geralt and I are doing the chores or, well, having any conversation really, we’ve just gotten used to it. If he wants to actually say something he does, certainly. Taciturn as my dear Witcher it, he’s not mute. He does talk sometimes, but it’s simpler to just let me listen while I’m rambling on. So, when I answer questions or laugh at something you can’t hear, I’m really just responding to Geralt.” Jaskier took Eskel’s hands in his own suddenly. It surprised him so much that the Witcher just let it happen. “I’m truly sorry it’s been bothering you, and I assure you, I had no intention of causing you distress. That’s why I’m telling you now. I may not have your witchery senses, but I can tell when something is wrong.” The bard fell quiet a moment, watching Eskel with concern. It twisted something in the witcher’s gut that he couldn’t identify.

“Why did he ask you not to tell us?” Eskel asked. He hated how quiet his voice sounded. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but this damn bard was doing something. He was too sincere. He cared too much. It made something ache in the scarred witcher.

“Oh, he’s just a worry wolf,” Jaskier huffed. “He thought that you lot would try to make Yennefer remove the curse. I told him that it wouldn’t matter, and, besides, Yennefer wouldn’t have agreed to it. Nor would any other mage agree to do it with her threatening them.” Jaskier grinned at the thought. “And don’t worry about getting me in trouble with Geralt. He’ll understand. He’s all bark and no bite anyway. Well, in most respects.” Jaskier’s grin took on a wicked glint.

“Gross,” Eskel chuckled, startling himself. “I don’t want to hear about my brother’s bedroom practices.”

“I would never give away the White Wolf’s secrets like that.” Jaskier clutched his chest, acting scandalized, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling broader. Eskel laughed again. “Does this mean you’ll stop following me around like a lost puppy?” Jaskier asked pointedly. His blue eyes fixed on the witcher’s yellow ones. “Not that I don’t enjoy good company, but it is unnerving to be followed all around the bloody keep for three days straight.”

Eskel tilted his head, frowning. “You knew I was following you.” Jaskier nodded. “You knew, but you let me anyways.”

“Well, it is your home. I’m just a guest here. A guest with a monster for a mother at that. I can understand a bit of suspicion.” He smiled again. The bard always seemed to be smiling when he was talking to the Witchers. “Now, you’re welcome to keep sitting here while I work, but I really would like to work on this song before the ideas are all gone.” Jaskier’s attention returned to the papers around him. Eskel just watched him. He didn’t understand the siren at all, but it was clear he was no threat. Somehow, he’d even managed to get Eskel to laugh. When the bard was done with his composing for the night, Eskel followed him back to the main room where Yennefer and the other witchers were playing Gwent. Lambert was clearly winning if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. Eskel settled himself beside his youngest brother. The bard sat with Ciri, who was reading on the furs in front of the fire.

“Done with your daily stalking?” Yennefer asked, taking her turn. Geralt rolled his eyes and Lambert frowned.

“I was just talking to the bard,” Eskel said, still watching Jaskier as he talked to Ciri. Vesemir glanced over at him, a warning in his yellow eyes.

“I bet he was doing the lion’s share of the talking,” Lambert snorted.

Geralt huffed a laugh. “Couldn’t get him to shut up if I tried.”

“I can hear you dear!” Jaskier called, glancing over Ciri’s head. Geralt met his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Rude,” the bard snapped playfully.

“I win,” Yennefer declared. Then she rose from the table. “Ciri, it’s late.”

“But Jask just got here,” the young cub whined.

“Don’t worry, little cub. I’ll help Yen get you ready for bed today.” The bard pulled her to her feet and the trio went off up the stairs to her room. Eskel was so fixated on watching Jaskier that he didn’t notice the White Wolf watching him.

“He told you,” Geralt said suddenly. Eskel turned to him and nodded. “It doesn’t make sense to you.”

“Not much,” Eskel admitted. “But he’s your bard.” He shrugged. “It’s not my head he’s digging in.”

“Not yet,” Geralt snorted. “He’s got a big heart.”

“What do you mean he’s digging in your head?” Lambert asked.

“His bard has got a curse that lets him hear the thoughts of the people he loves.” Eskel gestured to Geralt.

“Have you tried to fix it?” Vesemir asked.

“No.” Geralt met the old wolf’s stare.

“They don’t want to,” Eskel explained. “The bard said he’s had the curse for years now. He can hear thoughts from all three of them, and they don’t care. Hell, they like it.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“Curses should be broken when possible,” the old wolf admonished. Something dark flashed through Geralt’s eyes.

“Can’t force an idiot to get help,” Lambert muttered. Geralt barred his teeth. Yennefer cleared her throat from the stairs.

“Jaskier thought you may be having this conversation,” she said, violet eyes flicked from witcher to witcher. “He also said I shouldn’t get involved, but what the bird doesn’t know about, he can’t stop.” She descended the stairs slowly. “First, this curse is not hurting him, or anyone else for that matter. It never has. Second, whatever vulnerability excuse you were about to use is shit. That man survived six months being interrogated by Nilfgard without breaking. He was willing to sacrifice himself for all three of us. He may be a songbird, but he has talons as fierce as your claws. Finally, you do not understand what it feels like to have evidence of love. You cannot argue that he doesn’t love you, because you have proof in his every word.” Something burned in her eyes. “I think that makes any other point you make invalid, Witchers.” She strode past them, taking Geralt’s hand. “She’s asking for you.” Geralt nodded, letting her lead him up the stairs.

Vesemir shook his head. “I trained you pups to break curses,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but the witch has a point, Vesemir. It’s not hurting them. And think about how happy he’s been for the last few years. He hasn’t been that way since before Blaviken,” Eskel said. The other two glared at him.

“You shouldn’t mention that,” Lambert frowned.

“I’m right though. The bard makes him happy, curse and all.”

“I believe that bard has caused enough ruckus,” Vesemir declared. There was a dark glint in the old wolf’s eyes. He stalked from the room heading towards the old labs they used to mix potions.

“Shit,” Eskel snapped, getting up. Lambert grabbed his arm.

“Are you really gonna fight the old man?” Lambert scowled.

“I’m not mad.”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know."

“I’d leave it alone, Esk. The old wolf has a point. That bard is causing problems.”

“He’s not though. We are.”


	3. A Test Failed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry for the angst in this chapter. I promise there is a good and fluffy ending coming, but we've gotta get through the angst here.
> 
> Also, I promise Vesemir is a good dad. He's just protective of his pups.  
> Like those dads who threaten boyfriends by cleaning guns.  
> Misguided, old fashioned, but they care.   
> He doesn't want to hurt Geralt or Jaskier.   
> I promise. 
> 
> Final chapter will be up by Thursday. Possibly earlier if inspiration strikes.   
> AND THERE WILL BE FLUFF!!
> 
> Drop a comment to let me know what you think so far.

Lambert followed Eskel to Geralt’s room. “What the fuck do you mean we’re causing problems? It’s our damn keep,” Lambert grumbled.

“Yeah, and we’ve been acting like a bunch of dicks. You pressed him to shift. I followed him around for days. Ever since he’s been here, we’ve been avoiding him, ignoring him, or invading his privacy. Have you even had a conversation with him since you made him reveal himself?” Eskel snarled back, pausing to glare at the youngest witcher. Lambert was silent. “He’s been nothing but polite and patient with us. Fuck, he treats us like we’re normal and we treat him like he’s some kind of freak.”

“He is a freak.”

“No more than we are.”

The door to Geralt’s room opened and the White wolf emerged, glaring at them. “If you are going to fight about my bard, do it away from our rooms,” he growled.

“That’s not what we’re doing here,” Eskel said quickly.

“It’s what I’m doing here,” Lambert muttered.

“Look, Geralt, I think Vesemir is going to try and uncurse the bard. He went to the labs after you came up here,” Eskel said.

“That won’t work,” Yennefer said, emerging from Ciri’s room. “He’d have to examine the bard’s mind to begin to guess the right ingredients for a potion. Something, I can assure you I have made nearly impossible.” Her violet eyes burned into Eskel and Lambert. “You didn’t think I’d leave my bird defenseless, surely.” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I would have thought the old wolf would know that from experience. He’s certainly seen his fair share of curses.”

Geralt hummed in agreement. “Why do you think it has something to do with my bard?” The glare he leveled at his brothers would have been enough to send a kikimora running. Lambert took a step back.

“Vesemir said the bard was causing problems right before he stormed out,” Eskel explained.

“Ruckus,” Lambert volunteered quietly, “Not problems.”

“Leave it,” Jaskier said stepping around Yennefer. The mage tensed slightly, along with the Witchers, all surprised by the bard’s sudden appearance. “I’ve said it before, and I will continue to say it until I run out of air. I don’t mind. They have every right to be suspicious.” He gently laid his hand on Geralt’s arm. “I’m sure that whatever test your mentor has in store for me, I will survive. He’s not a villain. He’s just protective, much like another wolf I know.” His blue eyes were fixed on Geralt.

“Jaskier,” Yennefer warned.

“I will be fine, and you will both let it go.” The bard looked between them. “Now, my friends, there is a princess trying to sleep. If you insist on continuing this discussion, do it away from here. Geralt, love, go to bed. I’ll be there once Ciri has settled down.” Jaskier disappeared back into the room. Eskel could hear Geralt grinding his teeth, but the White Wolf turned quietly and went back to his room. Yennefer fixed the other two witchers with another glare before stomping off to her room.

“What the fuck?” Lambert breathed. When Eskel turned to look, his brother was staring at the door to Ciri’s room.

“See what I mean?” Eskel whispered before going to his own room. Lambert didn’t follow. The next, Eskel was up before dawn. He wasn’t surprised to see both his brothers were too. He made a beeline for Geralt, ignoring the strangely contemplative look on Lambert’s face as he passed. Geralt grunted to him in greeting, settled in the training yard, tending to his swords. Eskel hesitated, not sure how to approach the topic.

“Out with it,” Geralt sighed when the silence had gone on too long.

“I don’t want to see the bard hurt,” Eskel started. Geralt snorted. “I don’t. I wanted to know what you intended to do about Vesemir?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” Eskel frowned.

“What I said,” Geralt sighed. “Jaskier doesn’t want me to.”

“Jaskier is too trusting for his own good,” he scarred witcher snapped. Geralt snorted again. “Vesemir went to the labs last night. Aren’t you worried that he’s going to do something to your bard?”

“No. Jaskier may not have much of a sense of self-preservation, but I know Vesemir. So do you. He won’t hurt my bard.” Geralt rose, setting aside the oils and whetstone and taking his sword across the yard to practice his forms. Eskel wasn’t as sure as Geralt appeared to be. He knew Vesemir. He knew the ferocity that laid under the stoic demeanor of the old wolf. He had seen, firsthand, how their mentor reacted when his students were in danger. And that was when there had been more of them. If Vesemir thought the siren was a threat to any of the Witchers, Eskel had no doubt that Vesemir would take care of him. Even if Geralt was right, and Vesemir didn’t plan to kill the bard, the way the old wolf had reacted to the curse had Eskel on edge.

He followed Jaskier again that day. Jaskier knew he was there. The bard would shoot small smiles in Eskel’s direction periodically, to remind the Witcher that he knew. Eskel didn’t mind. He wanted to make sure the bard was okay, not spy on him more. He waited for the old witcher to appear, but there was no sign of the grey wolf until dinner, before Jaskier’s normal composition session. Vesemir sat in the seat across from the bard and set a glass bottle filled with a purple liquid on the table. Jaskier smiled at the old man. “What can I do for you, dear wolf?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head.

Vesemir frowned. “I do not trust you, siren.”

“Well, we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jaskier chuckled. “It took Geralt years before he even let me sit beside him.” His smile never faltered. Geralt sat quietly by his side, moving closer.

“You have caused tension in the keep.”

“I had no intention to and apologize for causing it. I would never wish to come between Geralt and his brothers.” Jaskier’s words were sincere, as always. Across the room, Lambert started at the tone. Vesemir tensed too. Even Eskel had to swallow an uncomfortable feeling that came from the true care in the bard’s voice. Ciri opened her mouth to speak but was hushed by Yennefer. There was a moment of silence before Vesemir pushed the potion over to Jaskier.

“Take the potion, Siren.” His voice was even and left no room for questions. Eskel felt his eyes widen. He saw Geralt tense, arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist. Yennefer let her mouth fall open before quickly pulling Ciri from the room.

“Vesemir,” Lambert started, but he fell silent at a glance from their mentor.

Jaskier let his smile fall but picked the potion up and uncorked it, purposely angling it away from Geralt. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what it is before I drink it,” he said bleakly.

“Take the potion.”

“I thought as much.” Then he swallowed the purple liquid in one gulp. Eskel felt his stomach drop. Geralt, who had been moving to take the potion from him, made a strangled gasping noise and pulled the empty bottle from the bard’s hands.

“Jaskier,” he growled.

“Shit,” Lambert breathed.

Jaskier cleared his throat, smiling again. “Will you tell me now?” he asked the wide-eyed grey wolf in front of him.

Vesemir schooled his features. “You trust me enough to take a potion you know nothing about.”

“Geralt trusts you. You raised him and his brothers. You kept them safe long before I was even born. They all trust you, so I trust you. Was I wrong to?” Jaskier tilted his head. He was still smiling, but there was a tension in his eyes. He leaned against Geralt, gently taking his wrist. When Geralt relaxed, the tension faded from the blue eyes.

“The potion you took will decide that.”

“How so?” Before Vesemir could answer, Jaskier’s smiled faltered. Small scales shimmered on his cheeks and his pupils became slits. His grip on Geralt tightened.

“It is a test, bard,” the old wolf explained. “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. It will force the truth out.”

“And apparently my gills.” Jaskier hissed in pain. Eskel found himself moving to comfort the bard, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. “What truths do you seek?” The bard took a steadying breath.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here for Geralt.”

“What are your plans for my pup?” Vesemir snarled. Geralt growled quietly and Eskel tightened his grip on the bard’s shoulder.

“The only plans I have for Geralt, or any of your pups, is to care for them.” Jaskier’s voice took on an odd saturation. Eskel supposed that it was the siren’s Voice trying to force its way out. Jaskier swallowed, closing his eyes before continuing. “I wish no harm on any of them. I never have and I never will. I have protected Geralt. I have protected Ciri. I have protected Yennefer. Should the need I arise I will protect Lambert and Eskel and you.” Lambert took in a sudden breath, eyes fixing on the struggling siren. Vesemir’s snarl turned into a frown.

“Vesemir, stop,” Geralt growled. He gripped his lover tightly to his body.

“Take him to the baths. There should be more than enough water for him there,” Vesemir said, still frowning. No one moved. Jaskier opened his eyes to stare at the old wolf. “I did not intend to hurt you, but the more you fight the shift, the more it will hurt, bard.” Jaskier nodded, letting go of Geralt’s wrist.

“I understand why,” Jaskier said gently, still struggling to control his Voice. Vesemir seemed to stall for a moment, just staring at the bard. Geralt finally jolted himself into motion, scooping Jaskier into his arms like a bride, taking him down to the baths. The silence in the room was deafening. It surprised Eskel when Lambert was the one to break it.

“What the fuck was that?!” Lambert shouted suddenly. He slammed his hands on the table, standing up as he did. Vesemir didn’t answer. “You are the one who told us to respect him. That he was supposed to be safe here. Why the fuck would you tell us that then do _that_ to him?”

“It was not meant to hurt him,” Vesemir said again. “I did not consider how the potion's effects would differ on for someone only partly human.”

“Not to overstep, but you better fucking tell Geralt that,” Eskel snapped. “He trusted you… _We_ trusted you not to hurt the people we bring here. He brought the damn bard here to protect him.”

“Fuck telling Geralt. The second the damn mage hears about this, she’ll be pissed. And I don’t fucking blame her.” Lambert glowered at their mentor.

“What happened?” Yennefer’s voice made all three witchers tense. The sorceress stepped into the room, eyes burning, reeking of chaos. Her eyes landed on the empty potion bottle, lying abandoned on the table. “What happened?” she growled again.

Vesemir was the only witcher to meet her gaze. “A mistake.”

“Explain, Witcher,” she hissed.

“I gave the bard a potion I have used in the past to compel people to tell the truth. I did not consider how his heritage would impact its effects.” Vesemir’s voice was even and controlled. Eskel could see Yennefer working through what Vesemir had said. Her eyes got wide.

“You absolute idiot! You forced him to shift!” The smell of ozone sharpened as chaos gathered around her. “The next time you want to test someone, run the damn potion by me first so I can stop you from utterly destroying them. Jaskier has spent his whole life trying to control his siren nature, running from his name and title only to be forced to relive every awful moment he was forced to shift in the one place he was meant to be safe!” Yennefer was yelling, but Vesemir didn’t react, rigid like a statue even as she approached. She slammed her hands on the table, leaning into the old witcher’s face. “Where is my bird?”

“The baths,” Lambert said. “Geralt took him to the baths.” Yennefer’s glare shifted to him briefly before she snatched up the potion bottle and stormed from the room.


	4. Planning  Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This grew longer than anticipated.   
> Blame Jaskier being soft and our wolves for being confused by this. 
> 
> Y'all have been amazing in your response to this. I hope you enjoy the story and keep leaving comments. They feed my soul

They didn’t see Geralt, Yennefer, or Ciri for a week. In all honestly, Eskel was surprised they saw Jaskier the next morning, smiling and chattering at Eskel and Lambert as if the night before had never happened. The bard followed his patterns, only deviating to bring meals to the White Wolf and his other companions. Vesemir avoided the bard, leaving whenever Jaskier entered a room smelling sour with guilt. On the fifth day of this, Eskel followed Jaskier when he went to compose. Like the first time, Jaskier just smiled at him and asked, “What can I do for you, my darling Eskel?” He patted the floor beside him. Eskel sat, watching as Jaskier took out his lute, a soft cloth, and a bottle of turpentine oil from the lute’s case.

“I have a question, bard,” Eskel said.

Jaskier sighed. “I figured as much. You are wondering why I’m not hiding away with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri.” Eskel nodded. “It’s a simple answer, my friend. It won’t do any good. I know that Vesemir didn’t intend to hurt me as he did. I know that they’re hiding because they understand that too. But they’re angry and I can’t blame them for that. Yen was with me the last time I was forced to shift, and she knows that being forced to shift hurts in several ways for me. She isn’t ready to forgive Vesemir for that mistake. Geralt suffered through twenty years of saving my life and keeping me from harm, only to return to the one place he believed to be safe for all of us and have me hurt by his mentor, after being questioned and stalked by his brothers.” Jaskier chuckled a little. “And Ciri, the poor girl, she’s mad because she knows Yen and Geralt are mad. She doesn’t understand all of it, because she hasn’t been told all of it. But she knows that it has to do with the potion Vesemir gave me and my shifting that night. They’ll calm down eventually.”

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“I was, for a bit,” Jaskier admitted, gently running the cloth over his lute.

“Not anymore?” Eskel frowned.

“My dear friend, anger takes energy. There are far better uses of mine than to hold a grudge against a man who was just looking out for his family.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jaskier looked up from his lute, blue eyes seeming to look directly at the witcher’s soul. Jaskier set aside his cloth and reached up, cupping Eskel’s scarred face with both hands, every bit as gentle with the warrior as he was with the instrument. “I know, but that’s all right. Not everything has to make sense. Somethings never will. Love is one of those things that we will never understand, and people will do a great deal for love, even if they don’t understand why. You witchers are at a disadvantage when it comes to loving people. You have so few examples of it in your long lives.” Jaskier smiled softly, running his thumb over one of the many scars. “Vesemir was acting out of love, whether the old grump knows it or not. I’m a creature of love. It’s not in my nature to be mad about that.” Jaskier released Eskel, turning back to his lute. “Besides, angry as he is, Geralt cares for Vesemir. When he calms down, and he will, he will probably be feeling just as guilty as Vesemir is right now. He’ll only feel worse if I’m still harboring anger too.”

“You know him well,” Eskel said absently. He could still feel the echoes of Jaskier’s hands on his face. No one had ever willingly touched him like that. It was distracting.

“I should hope so. I’ve been traveling with him for twenty years and reading his mind for three years. I have seen him in nearly every possible situation. I could tell you stories that would test the whole ‘witchers can’t blush’ thing.”

“Please don’t,” Eskel chuckled. It surprised him as much as it had the first time Jaskier had made him laugh.

“Fine,” Jaskier sighed. “I suppose I shall keep those stories to myself. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Jaskier smirked. Eskel rolled his eyes. “Now, my sweet ragged wolf, I have a question for you.”

Eskel only hesitated a little, still not used to the way Jaskier lavishes endearments. “As long as it’s not about Geralt.”

“No, it’s about Vesemir. I know he’s been avoiding me, and before you interrupt, yes. Clearly, I know why he’s avoiding me. However, it is highly unproductive for all of us to continue in this manner, and, quite frankly, it’s beginning to annoy me.”

“The question, bard.”

“The question, my friend, is this: when will he be doing something that he can’t just walk away from?”

“You want to corner Vesemir?” Eskel gaped at the siren who just nodded.

“Well, yes. I don’t see how he’ll talk to me if I don’t. He’s like Geralt. Sometimes, you can’t give him a choice, or he will continuously run away from whatever you want him to talk about.”

“Speaking from experience?” Lambert asked. The youngest wolf was leaning against the wall by the door. Eskel looked back at him, unsure of how long he’d been there.

“Geralt couldn’t admit he liked me until I literally read his mind,” Jaskier laughed. “Up until that point, he refused to even acknowledge that we were friends. With his words, at least.” Jaskier smiled again.

“Sounds like Geralt,” Lambert huffed. He pushed off the wall, coming over to where Jaskier and Eskel were sitting. “You’re gonna need help to get Vesemir alone, bard. As long as you’re not trying to get full-blown revenge, I’m willing. The old man was out of line, and he fucking knows it.”

“I’m not looking for revenge, little wolf,” Jaskier tutted. “I intend to explain that I’ve forgiven him. I can’t very well tell him that if he’s running from every room I enter.” Lambert stared at the bard, frozen to the spot, clearly unsettled by his words. Jaskier either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, turning back to Eskel. “Well?”

“I can help with that,” Eskel said. Jaskier beamed at him.

“You’ve already forgiven him?” Lambert muttered. Jaskier nodded. “Already?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Jaskier tilted his head. “I can be a very forgiving person when I want to be.”

“You forgive too easily,” Lambert sneered folding his arms across his chest.

“I forgive when forgiveness is called for. I assure you, I’m plenty able to hold a grudge. Just ask that sleaze, Valdo Marx,” Jaskier snapped back. His usual sweet tone turning sour. He scrunched up his face like he’d eaten a lemon, then schooled it just as quickly. “You lot are easy to forgive. You all go around killing monsters and helping people. I know you, you do it for the coin, but if you’re anything like Geralt, you won’t leave a town hurting. Especially if there are children involved. And you all had to get that from somewhere. Someone had to teach you that.” There was a sharp glint in the bard’s eye. “Vesemir raised you. He taught you. If I know anything about fathers and teachers, it’s that they are protective of their children. I would kill for Ciri. I may not kill for any of my students, but I would certainly consider it. I understand Vesemir and his actions even if they were, frankly, stupid and unnecessary. Can we move on, please? I am incredibly tired of everyone else in this keep walking on eggshells.”


	5. Pear-Shaped Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the fluffy conclusion, but somehow that angst got in there again and Eskel and Lambert needed a moment, so now there's another chapter. Ah, well. 
> 
> Sorry this update took so long. They were fighting me the whole way.   
> What else can you expect from a bunch of witchers?
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. It means a lot to hear from y'all.

Their plan was simple. And, incredibly, it worked. After lunch, Jaskier settled in the kitchen, hiding himself in the pantry. Lambert got Vesemir to cook dinner that night. When the old wolf went into the kitchen that evening to cook, Eskel sealed the door with Yrden. Now, all the bard had to do was talk, something they all knew he was good at. The two witchers settled on the other side of the door, unable to hear the conversation happening within. “You think it’s working?” Lambert asked twenty minutes after the door had been sealed. Eskel shrugged. “I think the bard’s gonna get hurt.”

“That’s because you think everyone is the same kind of asshole you are,” Eskel snapped.

“I’m usually right.” The younger witcher stuck his tongue out. Eskel moved towards him but stopped short at the sound of small feet. Ciri came around the corner and marched up to them.

“Jaskier’s not in the stable,” she said. “Have you seen him?” She looked between them, folding her arms. Lambert and Eskel shared a look.

“Not here,” Lambert said. Ciri turned her green-eyed glare to Eskel.

“He’s busy,” Eskel said finally.

“Doing what?” The young girl frowned.

“Talking, what else?” Lambert snorted. Eskel rolled his eyes. Ciri let her arms fall, counting people in her head and coming to the right conclusion. Then she bolted for the stairs. Lambert let out a sigh. “She’s getting Geralt and Yennefer, isn’t she?” Eskel nodded. “I know your signs are stronger than mine, but can they stop an angry mage _and_ witcher?”

“Never have before,” Eskel admitted. “Let’s just hope the bard is done before the sign breaks.” A moment later, Yennefer stormed into the room, smelling of ozone, brimming with chaos. Ciri was on her heels.

“Where’s the bard?” Yennefer hissed. Neither Eskel nor Lambert answered. “Answer me or I will get Geralt and you will both regret it.” The witchers shared a look but stayed silent.

“They said he was talking,” Ciri supplied. Yennefer tensed, her eyes finding the shielded door.

“Get Geralt,” she ordered, and the lion cub ran off again. She glared at Eskel. “Drop the sign.”

“I was told not to,” Eskel sighed, wondering, not for the first time, how he had come to care for the siren who had given him the instruction.

“They’re talking,” Lambert offered. She glowered at them. “I say we let them.”

“You do not get to decide what our bard gets to do,” she hissed.

“No, he does.” The youngest witcher rose to his feet, towering over the sorceress. “We’re just helping.” Whatever she might have said to that was cut off by Geralt storming the room and slamming the youngest witcher against the wall. Lambert didn’t fight, which surprised Eskel more than anything else. Geralt snarled. Lambert didn’t flinch.

“Let him go,” Eskel growled. “Your bard asked for this.” Geralt let Lambert go and turned his glare to Eskel. “Ask him yourself.” He gestured to the sealed door and released the sign. He knew from experience that Geralt could have broken it easily. Before anyone could make a move towards the door, it opened to Jaskier. Behind him was Vesemir, looking and smelling shocked and confused.

“Out of the way little bird,” Yennefer growled. Her fingers sparked with chaos.

“Not a chance,” Jaskier snapped. “I’m done with the fighting and distrust. It made sense at first, but it has been almost a month and I am done with it. I’m not expecting you all to magically get used to me.” He gestured to Lambert and Eskel. “Or for you lot to back down when you think I’m being threatened.” He glared at Yennefer, Geralt, and Ciri, who had taken up residence at Yennefer’s side. “This is not a battlefield. This is not enemy territory. We came here to be safe and for fuck's sake we will be if we stop trying to force shit. This war is over. No more fighting. No more testing. No more of any of this. I swear by all the gods if any of you starts shit again, I will leave this keep and none of you will see me for a decade. Am I understood?” The bard’s voice left no room for argument, and, much as he hated to admit it, not seeing the bard for a decade was a heavy threat even to him. No one reacted. “Good.” He stalked from the room, leaving the group as shocked and confused as Vesemir had seemed to be.

Things changed after that. It wasn’t instant. At first, things were tenser then they had ever been. Geralt and Ciri had rejoined the daily meals, sitting silently on either side of the bard like guards. Then they had rejoined training sessions and started to relax again. Yennefer resumed her patterns but avoided interacting with any of the other witchers. Eskel thought that Jaskier would go back to his normal patterns too, but he hadn’t. One morning, Eskel went looking for the bard in the library only to find Yennefer there alone. He eventually located the siren in the kitchen helping Vesemir make lunch. The old witcher had been staring at him like he couldn’t quite understand him. Eskel had left them alone. It seemed to happen every other day after that. It struck him how deeply Jaskier had integrated himself in their little pack. Whenever the bard had free time, he was with a witcher. Cooking with Vesemir. Chores with Geralt, and eventually Lambert. Composing while Eskel watched. Every time the bard addressed them, he piled on endearments and compliments. The first time he had called Vesemir ‘dear heart’ the old witcher had dropped the knife he’d been handling. He made his companions relax in the keep again. It took half the winter, but even Yennefer was relaxed around most of the other wolves. It was while Eskel was watching him compose a song about the wolves of Kaer Morhen that the bard suddenly tensed up. Winter was almost over, the last big storm of the season raging outside the keep and blue eyes looked up at him, wide and worried.

_Fuck._

“You okay, bard?” Eskel asked. Jaskier didn’t answer. He was gripping his lute in front of him like a shield. Eskel frowned.

“What’d you do to him?” Lambert said from the doorway. He had taken to lurking around outside the room while Jaskier was composing. Jaskier scooted away from them, his smell becoming sour with fear.

“I didn’t touch him,” Eskel snarled. Lambert rolled his eyes.

“Sure, you didn’t.”

“Shut it. Jaskier, are you okay?” Eskel tilted his head.

_If Geralt smells him like this, we’re all gonna get hurt._ Jaskier fixed his eyes on Eskel and took a deep breath. The smell of fear receded, but it didn’t make Eskel relax. His stomach dropped. He felt his jaw fall open but couldn’t quite bring himself to care. _Did he hear me?_ Jaskier looked away, fixing his stare at the ground, as he nodded. Eskel felt like he couldn’t move. It was like the first time Jaskier had called him ‘darling’ all over again, only worse. Better? He couldn’t tell. It was too much. Jaskier was suddenly moving towards him. He discarded his lute and took Eskel’s face in his hands.

“Focus on something. One thought, please,” Jaskier said, guiding Eskel’s eyes to his own. “Like meditating.” One thought. He could do one thought.

_I don’t mind._ He focused on it, pushing the spiraling thoughts aside. It was the most important thought anyways. Suddenly, what Yennefer had said made sense. He couldn’t say that Jaskier didn’t care for him. The proof was in his own head. _I don’t mind._ Jaskier released him, and sat back, smiling tentatively. He glanced back at Lambert.

“You too please,” he said gently. Lambert stumbled back. Eskel turned in time to see him slam into the door frame before disappearing into the hall. “Not ideal, but that works too, I suppose,” Jaskier huffed. He turned his attention back to the scarred wolf in front of him. “I know you said you didn’t mind, but are you sure?” Eskel nodded. He wasn’t sure his mouth would work. “Well, if you can, I think you better go after your brother. He seemed a little shocked.”

_Me too._

Jaskier chuckled. “I can see that, and I really try not to worry you witchers, but it seems I don’t get a choice in the matter. I can’t control who I love after all. Now, go after Lambert before he tries to leave the damn fortress. It crossed his mind and there’s a blizzard outside.”

“He’s not that big an idiot,” Eskel managed. But he was up and moving anyways. Lambert had a tendency to stop thinking sometimes.

“We both know otherwise.” Jaskier grinned wickedly in a way that looked just a bit like Geralt. Eskel didn’t let himself focus on it.

“Tell your family. I’ll get Lambert.” Eskel darted out, following Lambert’s smell (embers, iron, and honey) through the halls of the keep, thankfully moving away from the door. He followed it until he found the youngest wolf standing in the rumble of an old courtyard, deeper in the keep than either had been for decades. Snow drifted down from the broken roof. “Lambert.”

“Fuck off,” Lambert muttered.

“Not happening. Talk to me.”

“He was lying.”

“No, he wasn’t. You know he wasn’t.” Eskel rolled his eyes.

“But he can’t,” the young wolf hissed. Eskel moved closer, coming up right behind his brother.

“Geralt kept saying he’s got a big heart. Clearly he thought this could happen.”

“His heart can’t be this big,” Lambert snapped, turning to face Eskel. “We’re witchers. We kill sirens. We bring pain and death to everyone who knows us. How the hell can someone like him care for shit like us?” Lambert was shaking. For a long time, it was quiet, Eskel unsure of how to help his brother.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Eskel said finally, remembering the words from months ago. “And that’s all right. Fuck, it may never make sense. I’m not going to stand here and say I understand why or how the bard loves so many so deeply because I don’t. I doubt he does, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t deny that he cares because he’s got the proof in every word he says. I mean, he’s been calling us darling and dear all winter.” Lambert snorted. “And we’re not shit. Yeah, we’re treated like shit, but we aren’t shit.”

“Just a bunch of bastards.”

“We’re definitely bastards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, sorry you don't get to hear Vesemir and Jaskier's conversations. Suffice to say, Jaskier slapped him with logic and love. Maybe it'll end up in Scenes from a Hat.


End file.
